Chapter XII: THE REIGN OF VICTORIA (continued) (2)

Far different had been the incidents of the crisis at Ferozepore. This town stands on the left bank of the Sutlej, nearly due south of Lahore, and below Loodiana; it contained the largest arsenal in Upper India and its importance was immense. The brigade at the station consisted of the 10th Cavalry, the 45th and 57th Native Infantry, the 61st Queen's, and three batteries; the whole under Brigadier Innes, who had just arrived from Mooltan. Strong symptoms of disaffection had appeared among the 57th but not in the 45th, or the 10th Cavalry. When on the 13th decisive news arrived, the brigadier held a council of war; but here, as in all other stations, his avowed suspicions of the native troops were sharply combated by their own officers. He adopted a half measure: he resolved to divide the two native regiments, placing them so that the Europeans and the guns would be between them, and he intended to disarm them the next day. On the evening of the 13th he held a parade, at the same time threw a hundred men of the 61st into the magazine, and selected the best positions for his artillery. From the parade he directed the 57th to march in one direction, and the 45th in another. The former obeyed, and encamped quietly in their new quarters; but the 45th took a route that brought them in sight of the magazine, which they made an unsuccessful attempt to rush. In the meantime the 61st had to guard the barracks, where the women and children had sought shelter, as well as the magazine, and thus were compelled to look on while the mutineers and the mob burnt the cantonments. The 57th took no part in the mischief, and the next day gave up their arms and colours. The 45th were still bent on wrong doing, and as a precaution, the brigadier blew up the regimental magazines. Then the 45th, except a few, broke into open mutiny, and set out for Delhi, pursued by the Europeans and the 10th. Very few escaped, for the 10th caught some, and the villagers brought in others. Brigadier Innes had now leisure to secure all the powder and stores. Of the native force, the 10th alone retained their arms and received General Anson's thanks for their loyalty. In a few weeks they too were mutineers.

There were three other points of moment: one of supreme importance in the Punjab-Peshawur. The others were Kangra and Mooltan. Kangra was to the Rajpoots of the hills what Umritsir was to the Sikhs of the plains--a place invested with a moral prestige. Major Lake, getting one of Mr. Montgomery's notes from Lahore, marched a body of Punjab police into Kangra and it was secured. We have already seen the men of the 8th enter Philour at dawn. Mooltan, standing on the left bank of the Chenab, a few miles above its junction with the Indus, was the key of the whole country around the point where the five rivers become one. It commanded the navigation; it was the connecting link between the Punjab and Scinde and the Punjab and South Afghanistan. There were only sixty Europeans there, and 3,500 natives. Of these the most dreaded were the 62nd and 69th Native Infantry; their officers alone were full of trust in them. Major Crawford Chamberlain could rely only on his sixty Europeans and some 250 Punjabees; he had hopes of a regiment of irregular cavalry, his own regiment, known all over India as Skinner's Horse. His policy was to temporise and prepare; and most ably he did both. It was pluck and skill which saved Mooltan.

Peshawur was, after all, the critical point in the Punjab. Five infantry regiments of the Bengal army were there, the 21st, 24th, 27th, 51st, and 64th; three cavalry regiments, the 5th Regulars, and the 17th and 18th Irregulars. In three adjacent forts were detachments of a Hindoo regiment, called the Khelat-i-Gilzies. The British force consisted of the 70th and 87th, and four batteries; in all about 2,000 men. At Noushera, the station at the east end of the Peshawur Valley, and more than twenty miles off, were the 27th Queen's, the 55th Native Infantry, the 10th Irregulars, and a battery. At Hotee Murdan, a mountain station, sixteen miles north of Noushera, were the Guides, natives, but true as steel, because raised, officered, and disciplined on sound principles. These were the forces, native and British, north of the Indus. The Europeans were outnumbered by three to one.

The telegram from Lahore was received here and kept secret. The men who had to deal with probable mutiny were Brigadier Sydney Cotton, Colonels Edwardes, Nicholson, and Neville Chamberlain, for General Reid, the Commander-in-Chief, was not one of the prime moving spirits. On the morning of the 12th a council was held, and swift were its decisions. The bold spirit of John Nicholson suggested at once that the British should take the initiative and form a movable column, so that aid might be rendered where it was required, and visible tangible power shown to all. To form this column, the 55th Native Infantry were ordered to occupy Hotee Murdan; so that the Guides might join the 27th Queen's at Noushera, and that these two should form the kernel of the column. At the same time the 64th Native Infantry were split up into three parts, and sent to the forts near Peshawur. The next morning, the 13th, the council heard the news of the disarming at Lahore, and proceeded with the work. Sir John Lawrence, though at Rawul Pindee, talked with his coadjutors by telegraph, and at his suggestion General Reid joined him, and thus the heads of the two public services were united. The measures taken extended over a wider field. The Punjabee infantry and the Sikh regiments, the remains of the old Khalsa army, were called in from all quarters to join the movable column. Not only was the station made safe, and the passage of the Indus at Attock secured, but Edwardes and Nicholson took advantage of their popularity on the frontier to call for aid from the very tribes whom it had been their business to rule, and to rule with no unsteady hand. For the moment these men, by boldness, promptitude, and sagacity, held down the raging element of mutiny on both banks of the Indus, and finally drew its teeth with little loss.

But for the present we must leave them with these armed traitors all around, to show what General Anson was doing in the first week after the outbreak at Meerut.

We have already caught a glimpse of General Anson, whose distinction among men it was to be the greatest whist-player in either hemisphere. We have seen him at Umballa, misunderstanding the mutiny, and snubbing Sepoys and Sepoy officers for telling tales. He was on the road to Simla, and to Simla he went. Below him were spread out the Cis-Sutlej States, governed chiefly by native Sikh chiefs who owned allegiance to the Company. It was among these that we had sought and found our earliest allies. We have seen how the Rajah of Kuppoorthulla cast his lot at once with ours. There were others ready to follow his example. The whole country below had been for three days in the ferment of mutiny; the troops at Lahore had been disarmed; the movable column had been formed, an outbreak of the 5th and 60th Native Infantry at Umballa on the 10th of May had been frustrated by a mere accident; and blood had been shed at Ferozepore, before General Anson heard that there was any serious mutiny in the army. When the famous message from Delhi reached Umballa, General Barnard sent off Captain Barnard, his aide-de-camp, to inform the Commander-in-Chief. As he passed through Kussowlie, he warned the 75th Foot to be ready to march at a moment's notice. On the 12th he astonished the Commander-in-Chief by presenting the Delhi telegram! It was fortunate for General Anson that he had with him at that moment men like Colonel Chester and Major Norman. Whatever indecision there may have been in the mind of the chief, there was none in that of his subordinates, and when he could not decide, they decided for him. Orders were sent that very night for the march of the 75th and for the 2nd Fusiliers to be ready for marching, and the 1st Bengal Fusiliers at once to Umballa; But General Anson did not stir. Fresh news came in on the 13th, as precise as it was horrible. The 2nd Fusiliers were ordered to march. On the 14th the general and his staff quitted Simla, and the next day they were at Umballa. The 1st Fusiliers arrived the same day; having marched in two nights sixty miles. The 75th had come in, and these, with the 9th Lancers, under Colonel Hope Grant, and two troops of horse artillery, formed a weak but respectable brigade. On the 17th they were joined by the 2nd Fusiliers.

Pending the arrival of General Anson the civil authorities had not been idle. Acting under the inspiration and on the orders of Sir John Lawrence, whose comprehensive mind embraced the whole state of affairs north of Delhi, Mr. Barnes and Mr. Forsyth had called upon the Maharajah of Putteeala, and the Rajahs of Jheend and Nabha, for the aid of troops, provisions, carriage, and it was instantly granted. Detachments of their forces were sent to guard fords and places of importance in the country, to Loodiana, and on the road to Kurnaul. The military commissaries could not meet the immense demand for transport; it was met by the civilians. These were days of vast activity. For the first time European soldiers mounted sentry, and European officers rode and walked in the burning sun. With the aid of the native princes the civilians took firm hold on the country between the Jumna and the Sutlej, and thus secured the road from Delhi to the Punjab, whence troops and ammunition and spirited counsels alone could come.

One of the first acts of General Anson, or rather of his able staff officers, was to organise a siege train at Philour. The order, however, did not reach that fort until the 17th, and four days elapsed before it could be prepared. In the meantime, a Ghoorka battalion near Simla, which nobody doubted was badly managed, broke into mutiny, creating a disgraceful panic at Simla. The siege train had to be entrusted to the escort of the 3rd Native Infantry, encamped at Philour. Part of this regiment, and of the 4th Cavalry, had already been sent to guard a small supply of ammunition for the Europeans. It was said the 3rd had sworn the siege-train should never reach Delhi, and it is not an improbable story; nevertheless, when, hearing that the Ghoorkas were in revolt, they volunteered to act as escort, the offer was accepted. The train crossed the Sutlej, and two hours afterwards the bridge was carried away. Perplexed and harassed by the responsibility thrown upon him, General Anson reached Kurnaul on the 25th; on the 26th he was attacked by cholera, and on the 27th of May he died. It may be said he died of a consciousness of his own incapacity to contend with the gigantic difficulties around him. It was not his fault that he was neither a Lawrence nor a Montgomery, neither a Havelock nor a Campbell; but it was the fault of the British Government that they selected a man of such moderate abilities and no force of character to command the Indian army. On the 26th the Delhi Field Force under Sir Henry Barnard reached Kurnaul, and Sir Henry assumed command. It was now nearly the end of May, twenty days since the mutiny began; and here were the troops from Umballa and the brigade from Meerut converging on a point, to effect a junction and lay siege to Delhi.

By this time the Punjab had been the theatre of more decision and vigour. Sir John Lawrence, Mr. Montgomery, and their able coadjutors had shown how mutiny should be dealt with. No half measures were adopted. They went upon the time-honoured principle that he who is not for us is against us. "Treason and sedition," writes one of the Punjab men, "were dogged into the very privacy of the harem, and up to the sacred sanctuaries of the mosques and shrines." Mr. Montgomery banished red tape. All letters were intercepted; all important ferries, fords, and roads were watched. Rewards were offered for fugitive mutineers, dead or alive. It was soon found that the population were on our side, and the villagers ready to stop mutineers, or to report their movements. The Hindostanee soldiers had boasted throughout the Punjab that _they_ had conquered it, and now it was the turn of the Sikh and the Punjabee. The Sikhs were burning to march on Delhi. More than a century and a half before, Aurungzebe, the Great Mogul, had beheaded a prophet of the Sikhs in his palace at Delhi, and there was a prophecy current that the Sikhs, in conjunction with the British, should sack Delhi, and avenge the death of their martyr Gooroo. This made the work of the British leaders less difficult; but it was, in the middle of May, still a problem whether we should stand or fall.

The Punjab still had to be made safe. Peshawur was not yet secure. The blow to be struck there by the Sepoys had only been parried. The hill tribes looked on with suspicion and doubt. The cantonments were full of intrigue. The Sepoys were the first to draw down on themselves the doom awaiting them. The 55th had been sent from Noushera to Hotee Murdan, and the 64th into their forts near Peshawur. This had reduced the force to be watched to four infantry and three cavalry regiments. They had all heard of the success of their "brothers" at Meerut and Delhi. In spite of vigilant watching and severe measures, these regiments were in close communication. But some of the letters seized not only showed that an extensive conspiracy existed, but revealed its nature. Happily, Colonel Nicholson felt danger in the air, and induced Sir John Lawrence to send back half the 27th Foot to the Indus. Happily, also, the Punjabee troops on the frontier were coming in. But there was no time to lose. The Sepoys in the station were ripe for revolt, and the plot formed was only discovered eight-and-forty hours before the time fixed for its execution. The 51st Native Infantry at Peshawur sent a letter to the 64th and the Khelat-i-Gilzies, inviting them to march into Peshawur on the 22nd of May, and hinting what should then be done. The letter got safely to hand, but the Sepoy who received it took it to the officer commanding at one of the three forts. The officer sent it back instantly to Peshawur, and thus saved the station. Now was the time to disarm the whole of the native troops. It was the 21st of May. Edwardes had just come in from Rawul Pindee. Promptly a council was held, and although the colonels of the Sepoy regiments--as they did every where--vehemently refused to believe that their men were mutinous, Cotton, Edwardes, and Nicholson saw more clearly, and would not be gainsaid. News from Noushera and Hotee Murdan quickened their resolves into acts. The 55th were in open mutiny. Brigadier Cotton decided that the 24th, 27th, and 51st Native Infantry, and the 5th Cavalry should be disarmed on the 22nd. The 21st Native Infantry and the 7th and 15th Irregular Cavalry were still trusted. The hazardous operation was performed with complete success. The British had won again. While the issue was doubtful, the chiefs of the valley had refused to take sides. "Show us that you are stronger," they said, "and there shall be no lack of support." The demonstration of strength was given. On that very day recruits came in by the hundred. "The chiefs of the valley crowded in upon General Cotton, flung their swords on the ground at his feet, and tendered the services of themselves and their vassals." Such it is to be morally intrepid at the right moment and in the right way.

More had to be done, for the 55th were in open mutiny at Noushera and Hotee Murdan. The first-named station lies on the road from Peshawur through Attock on the Indus to Rawul Pindee and Lahore. The second lies to the north, over the Cabul river, which, twisting down through the rocky bottom of the Khyber pass, joins the Indus near Attock. The 55th had marched to Noushera on the 13th. The 27th Foot had gone eastward. The Guides were hurrying towards Delhi. The 55th held Hotee Murdan, had two companies at Noushera, and one on the right bank of the Indus, opposite Attock. There, too, were a hundred Pathans, under Futteh Khan, once a captain in the Guides, and in the fort of Attock were the 5th Punjabees. The 55th men opposite Attock tried to seduce the Pathans from their allegiance; but these were true and revealed the secret. Finding they were discovered, the 55th men mutinied and made for Noushera. Here they were met and captured by the 10th Irregulars, but from these they were rescued by their comrades in the station. It happened that Lieutenant Davies had under his orders a few men of the 27th Foot, who were guarding the sick, and the women and children of the regiment, and these, though few in number, displayed so bold a front that the mutineers recoiled, and hurried away to Hotee Murdan. But, finding that the bridge of boats over the Cabul river had been broken, the greater part marched back and only a few joined their regiment. When the 55th heard that a force under Nicholson was coming against them from Peshawur, they prepared to hurry off into the hills, but were caught and scattered like dust before the wind.

From Hotee Murdan, the Peshawur column, under Colonel Chute, moved upon the three forts, garrisoned by the 64th Native Infantry and the Khelat-i-Gilzies. Chute reached the first fort, Aboozai, and easily disarmed the men of the 64th who were there. He reached Subkuddur the next day, and disarmed the men of the 64th, both in that fort and in Fort Michnee. Peshawur was no longer in danger; the whole of the trans-Indus region had been secured. It had been shown that although the Irregular Hindostanee Cavalry could not be trusted, yet that the Punjabees were true, for the men of the 5th had not hesitated a moment to shoot a cavalry mutineer, who had incited his comrades to murder an officer. Improving on their bold policy, the leaders at Peshawur levied new corps among the frontier tribes--hitherto our direst foes--and found them trusty warriors; drew enough men from the British Infantry to make a squadron of horse, and mounted them on the chargers of the disarmed native cavalry; formed in like manner a battery, took the Sikhs out of the disarmed regiments, re-armed them, and placed them in a separate regiment. The old Sikh leaders eagerly came forward, and soon there was the nucleus of a new and trusty native army of Sikhs and Punjabees. It is recorded of a frontier chief that when he heard the story of the Meerut and Delhi atrocities, filled with rage, he spat on the ground, and said with wrath, "Who can charge us with ever touching a helpless woman or defenceless child? No! we would not do it, not for a prince's ransom!" And it was true.

The North-West was now completely cut off from Calcutta. The 9th Native Infantry, stationed at different towns on the trunk road between Agra and Delhi, mutinied on the 20th, 22nd, 23rd, and 24th of May, and marched to Delhi. Some gallant Europeans--Mr. Patterson Sanders, a zemindar of those parts, among them--forming a little squadron of cavalry, remained for months afterwards about Allyghur; but with this exception British rule ceased in the Doab below Delhi. At Agra, indeed, the British stood out bravely amid a sea of mutiny roaring around them, suffered their moments of peril, had their combats and hair-breadth escapes, but nevertheless survived. At the end of May mutinies increased on all sides. Let the reader bear in mind that, from the 10th of May onwards, there were, day after day, incessant explosions of Sepoy regiments, sometimes bloody and cruel, sometimes mild--that is, not followed by the slaughter of many of our kin. The track of the mutiny ran from the Delhi country eastward, through the Doab into Behar, and north and south, marking Rohilcund and Oude, and Central India, with many bloody spots; for the Sepoys were many, and the British were few--so few, that they could be reckoned by hundreds, while their exasperated foes were numbered by thousands and tens of thousands. While the Delhi field force was getting itself together, siege train and all, while the men of the Punjab were fighting their great fight with their Sepoys, the military revolution was growing supreme in every province garrisoned by Hindostanees, until only Agra and Lucknow, like rocks in that turbulent ocean, were left to bear the British flag and shelter men of British race. Before following the army to Delhi, let us look nearer at the mutiny, now blazing so far and wide.

We shall take the events in chronological order. On the 16th of May the native sappers stationed at Roorkee were ordered to march to Meerut. They mutinied, slew Captain Fraser, and strode away to Delhi. On the 20th, a spy, caught and surrendered by the 9th Native Infantry at Allyghur, was hanged in the presence of the regiment, the bulk of whom seemed to approve. But one suddenly crying, as he pointed to the corpse, "Behold a martyr to our religion!" the whole of the companies present broke into mutiny. They spared the officers, but plundered the place, liberated the convicts, and marched to Delhi. In four days the whole regiment was in revolt; but it is distinguished among other regiments, because it did not commit murder. At Mynpooree, Lieutenant De Kantzow rendered himself conspicuous by his sterling courage. He stood up against the mutineers, exhorting, remonstrating, threatening. When some pointed their muskets at him, he folded his arms and bade them fire if they dared. When they tried to storm the treasury, he was there to resist, and, aided by the gaol-guard, he induced the raging multitude to turn away. They went off to Delhi, and De Kantzow received the thanks of Lord Canning, and a command. On the 28th the Hurrianah battalion rose at Hansee and Hissar, a few miles south-west of the Great Road from Delhi to Kurnaul, and murdered every European they could overpower; and on the same day, showing how the mutineers acted from a common feeling, the 15th and 30th Native Infantry stationed at Nusseerabad, in Rajpootana, seized their arms and a native battery, and began to shed blood. The 1st Bombay Lancers charged them, but without effect, and then retreated, with the surviving Europeans, to a place of safety, while the mutineers went forth towards the common centre, Delhi.

Two days afterwards, the Lucknow Brigade showed itself in its true colours; within twelve hours the Bareilly Brigade revolted, and within a week the whole of Rohilcund and Oude, save Lucknow, had been wrested from British rule. Lucknow city stands on the right bank of the Goomtee, one of the tributaries of the sacred Ganges. Within the city was a most turbulent population; without, a camp swarming with mutinous Sepoys. The only men who could be trusted wholly were the 32nd Foot and the Europeans, civilians, merchants, and traders dwelling in Lucknow. The chief commissioner was Sir Henry Lawrence; the Financial Commissioner, Mr. Gubbins. Another commissioner was Major Banks. Colonel Inglis commanded the 32nd Foot, and Brigadier Gray the native troops. In and near the cantonments were 4,800 foot, and 2,100 horse, with two batteries of artillery. In the whole of Oude there were 19,200 native troops, and only one British regiment and one company of British artillery, in all 800 men. These last were at Lucknow. Thus, there were upwards of twenty to one against us. But in the mutinies about to occur, all our enemies did not turn upon us at once; and such preparations had been made to secure a stronghold, that, when nearly all had fallen away, there still remained a place of refuge for the civilians and traders, and a place for all to defend.

Nearly the whole of the troops in Oude were ripe for revolt, and the people were becoming suspicious of our ability to maintain our power. The state of transition from the rule of the ex-king to that of the Governor-General helped to create disaffection. The sway of the former was irregular and inequitable; the sway of the latter, though regular and equitable, had not come fully into play. In Oude, the maxim of all was, and had long been, every one for himself. The villagers were accustomed to resistance; the talookdars, rulers of petty and sometimes extensive districts, were accustomed to revolt. In the latter end of May Sir Henry Lawrence sent a small column, under Captain Hutchinson--who wrote an interesting memoir of the mutinies--to move about between the Goomtee and the Ganges, and fourteen miles from Lucknow this column was watched by armed villagers. The great province of Oude, so full of fighting men, had not, like the Punjab, been disarmed when it was annexed, and we were about to pay the penalty of over-confidence. This column had not been gone two days before the troops in the cantonment mutinied.

As usual, they gave no premonitory sign. It was well known that the native troops might break out any day, and on the 30th of May a Sepoy reported that the troops would rise in the evening; but the brigadier did not believe the report, and did not forward it to Sir Henry Lawrence. In the twilight the 71st and the 7th Cavalry turned out and began firing. They tried to surprise the officers and the mess-house, but these were too quick for them. Sir Henry repaired to the camp of the 32nd, which was soon under arms, with the guns ready for action. The mutineers shot Brigadier Handscomb dead, and then essayed to charge the 32nd and the guns. But grape shot proved enough for them. Falling back, they slew Lieutenant Grant, The 13th and 48th were drawn up on parade, but would not act, and only a few of the 71st, and 200 of the 13th, and fifty-seven of the 48th could be got to follow their officers to the side of the British. The Sepoys seized the magazine, and plundered the officers' bungalows, in spite of some gallant efforts to prevent them. The 32nd, with the few faithful Sepoys, remained under arms all night. In the morning Sir Henry pursued the mutineers, who fled away before him. The scoundrels in the city now rose, but they were speedily and severely punished; and Sir Henry was able to raise 3,000 police, who, under Captain Carnegie, did good service. Some of the mutineers struck across country for the Ganges and Delhi.

On the very day after this outburst at Lucknow, on Sunday, the 31st, Bareilly and Shahjehanpore were the scenes of horrible atrocities. At the latter, the 28th Native Infantry selected the moment when the Europeans were at church, and tried to slay them altogether; but they failed. Mr. Ricketts was killed in the church, with others, and Major James fell on the parade ground. The greater number took to the country, and reached Mohumdee. Here they found Captain Patrick Orr, with a company of the 9th Oude, and these were reinforced by fifty men from Seetapore. Captain Orr extracted from the native officers an oath binding them to escort the whole party to Seetapore; but they had not gone far before the troops turned them adrift to go where they pleased. They went, but the ruffian Sepoys soon followed, and near Aurungabad began the work of murder. The Sepoys, strangely enough, saved Orr and a drummer boy, and took them to Lonee Singh, of Mithowlee.

The tragedy at Bareilly made a deep impression. That Sunday was a day fatal to the British. At Bareilly there were two regiments of native infantry, one of cavalry, and a battery, under Brigadier Sibbald. Happily, the women and children had been sent to the hills. There were no European troops in Rohilcund; the Sepoys had nothing to fear. They had only delayed the execution of their intentions in the hope that their officers could be induced to call their wives and children from Nynee Tal. Finding the hope vain, they mutinied in the most complete way. On that quiet Sunday, being all agreed, they suddenly opened with both grape and musketry on the officers, while a detachment released 3,000 felons, and the fierce Rohillas rushed out to burn and slay. The devastation of the camp completed the day's work. Khan Bahadar Khan, an old servant of the Company, proclaimed himself king, and appointed a native officer of artillery to be his general. Then he held a court, tried two European judges, found them guilty, and caused them to be hanged. The Bareilly Brigade was not long in marching to Delhi, but nothing, except the fatuity of General Hewitt, saved it from disruption, if not destruction, at a ferry over the Ganges.

Seetapore, in the westernmost division of Oude, lies on the Sureyan river, about fifty miles north of Lucknow. It was the seat of government for Khyrabad. The commissioner there was Mr. George Christian. The troops there consisted wholly of natives, one regiment being the 41st Native Infantry, the others being Oude Irregulars. Here, too, mutiny was felt to be in the air. Here, too, the British officers refused to believe that their men could revolt, and even Mr. Christian believed he could trust the Oude Irregulars. All the troops were paid on the 2nd of June; on the 3rd they broke into mutiny. Like the regiments at Bareilly, these men reproached their officers because they had sent their women and children into the commissioner's house. How many were actually slain at Seetapore is not known, but twenty-four can be named and numbered--among them Mr. and Mrs. Christian. Among those who escaped towards the hills on the north was Captain Hearsey of the Military Police, whose men protected him and even saved two ladies. The wanderings of Captain Hearsey and the fugitives from different quarters whom he met, surpass in romantic incidents the inventions of the novelist. After eight months' wanderings, Hearsey rejoined the army of Sir Colin Campbell, by making an immense detour through the hills, and issuing into the plains far north of Meerut.

The mutiny of Jhansi was even more tragic than this of Seetapore. Jhansi was formerly one of the independent principalities of the extensive region known as Bundelcund. It stands between the Betwa and the Sinde rivers, two affluents of the Jumna, and is 100 miles from Calpee and 150 from Agra. It had been annexed by Lord Dalhousie. He had refused to recognise the adopted heir of the last Rajah, and the Ranee, his wife, refused, so angered was she, to accept a pension from the British Government. There were parts of two regiments at Jhansi. The Ranee, an able and bold woman, saw her opportunity for revenge had come. As soon as she heard of the successful mutinies of the Sepoys in the North-West, she instigated the regiments in her city to follow their example. The Europeans had determined to make a stand in the fort, and this they provisioned; but a company of Sepoys entered on the 4th of June, and declared they intended to hold the fort, thus depriving the British of a defensible post. A parade was held; the Sepoys were respectful, and swore to stand by their officers. The place of refuge now selected by the residents was the town fort. In a few hours the whole native force was in revolt. The cavalry began the fray. Riding over the plain, they met and shot two officers of the 12th Native Infantry. "They then made a rush at their own commanding officer, who, well mounted, was making for the fort; but, though they managed to wound him, he reached the fort in safety, and our countrymen on the ramparts, opening fire on his pursuers, killed some five or six of them.... With loud shouts, the mutineers then proceeded against the fort, and on the second day the Ranee sent her guns and elephants to assist them. But there was not only force without, there was treachery within. The Europeans numbered only fifty-five, including women and children; the natives who were with them were numerically superior. Two of these, brothers, were discovered in the act of opening one of the gates to the enemy. Lieutenant Powys, who saw them, instantly shot one dead, and was himself cut down by the brother. Captain Burgess avenged him in a second, and the assassins lay side by side in the ditch. But provisions were failing them; two attempts to communicate with Nagode and Gwalior had been abortive; some Europeans who had tried to escape over the parapet had been caught and killed; all appeared hopeless. At this crisis the Ranee sent to say that if they would surrender their lives should be spared, and they should be sent safely to some other station. She swore, the troopers of the cavalry swore, the Sepoys swore, the native gunners swore, to adhere to these terms. Seizing this as the only chance of life--unable, indeed, to hold out for twenty-four hours longer--the garrison surrendered. They came out, two and two; as they advanced through the line of cavalry and infantry, they saw none but hostile faces; but there was no movement against them. At last, every Christian had quitted the fort. Then was commenced a deed of ruthless treachery, unsurpassed even by the Nana Sahib. The gates were shut behind them; they were seized, the men and women separated, and tied together in two rows, facing one another; the children standing by their mothers. The men were then decapitated, the children were seized, and cut in halves before their mothers' eyes; and last of all, the ladies found what, under those circumstances, they must have felt to be a happy release in death."

In the interval between the 4th and the 10th of June the whole of the troops at Cawnpore and throughout Oude had revolted. Cawnpore demands a separate story, and we turn again to Oude.

There were five considerable stations. On the 8th the troops at every one became their own masters. The military station in the Bareytch division, north of Lucknow, was Secrora. The Commissioner of the Division, Mr. Wingfield, later Chief Commissioner of Oude, was at Secrora. Feeling that the two regiments and battery there would mutiny, the ladies and children were sent by the officers to Lucknow on the 7th, and were met halfway by a body of Sikhs and volunteer horse, and taken to the residency. Mr. Wingfield rode off to Gonda, determined to take refuge at Bulrampore. The next day all the remaining officers, except Lieutenant Bonham, started for Gonda, for the troops rose and bade them go. Lieutenant Bonham was protected by his men for a day. Then he, too, was obliged to leave, and he made his way across country to Lucknow. The Europeans at Gonda were now forced to retreat, and they were fortunate in finding shelter at Bulrampore, and they finally got into Goruckpore, and were saved. But three officers, all in the civil service, retreating from Bareytch disguised as natives, were recognised at the main ferry over the Gogra, and all murdered, after they had made a gallant defence.

The division of Fyzabad lies to the south-east of Lucknow, and extends from the Ganges to the Gogra. The chief station was Fyzabad, a town on the left bank of the Gogra, just then notorious for the sharp quarrel which had occurred in the previous February between the Moslems and Hindoos. Here lay in gaol that moulvie who had traversed Hindostan preaching sedition, and whose daring had compelled the Government to employ force against him, and to put him in prison. There were two regiments of infantry, one of cavalry, and a horse battery at Fyzabad. These were known to be so disposed to mutiny that the civilians had sent their wives and children to Shahgunge, a fort belonging to Rajah Maun Sing, a powerful talookdar. Several other European women and children joined them, but some of the officers' wives remained. On the 8th it was clear that the dreaded moment was at hand. Mutineers were coming up the river from Goruckpore and Azimghur, notably the 17th Native Infantry, whose agents entered the lines at Fyzabad, and summoned the troops there to join. This they did on the night of the 8th of June. "They did not go through the form of pretending a grievance, but said they were strong enough to turn us out of the country, and intended to do it." Nevertheless, these men would not murder their officers. They provided them with money and boats wherewith to descend the Gogra, and then, with horrible treachery, instigated the 17th to waylay the boats at Begumgunge and kill the Europeans. Twenty officers and sergeants and one lady embarked in four boats. Of these only six escaped; for as the boats approached Begumgunge, the Sepoys of the 17th opened fire on the fugitives. Some fell wounded, others were killed.

At Sultanpore were Fisher's Irregulars and two foot regiments. Colonel Fisher, the commandant, sent away the ladies and children, who, befriended by Madho Sing, reached Allahabad, plundered, but alive. But the Military Police shot Colonel Fisher, his own men, who "liked him," looking on. They slew Captain Gibbings, and ordered Lieutenant Tucker to be gone. Mr. Block and Mr. Stroyan were also cruelly and treacherously murdered near Sultanpore. The British at Salone on the Sye, and Durriabad, north of the Goomtee, receiving protection from zemindars and talookdars, their lives were preserved. It was thus that, in ten days, all the native troops in Oude freed themselves from British control; and by a sort of common impulse directed their steps towards Nawabgunge Bara Baukee, which became the point of concentration for the meditated attack on Lucknow.